PS 3509 
.L67 S8 
1902 
Copy 1 



ZSratttOfl 



A SUMMER 
SNOWFLAKE 

by 

OW.D.BLLWANGER, ( 




Class (PS 3 sra^ 

Book .jylTSg 



Copyright N° 



440 a, 



COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



A Summer Snowflake 

and 
Drift of other Verse and 

Song 




to Jessie's dancing feet 



A Summer Snowflake 

and 

T)rift of other Verse 
^ and 
Sonqr 

Jy 

W D Ellwanger 




NewYdrk 
DouUeday Page and Company 
1902 






' 



THE LIBRARY CM? 
CONGRESS, 

T>*o CtJPtfca RjEOHVlD 

NOV. 4 19^2 

pi AAsCAXXo NO. 
COPY B. 



Copyright, 1902 
By W. D. Eilwanger 

Published October, 1902 



c * • 



To the Tublishers of 

' ' The Century, " " Scribner's Magazine, " 
"The Pall Mall Magazine," "The Sun," 
"Life," "Truth," "Puck," and "The 
Bookman," for their courtesy in allow- 
ing republication of many of the poems 
herein contained : the author makes 
grateful acknowledgment. 



With 
Gratitude and Friendship 

To 
James Whitcomb Riley 



CONTENTS 




A Summer Snowflake . 


3 


The Treasure-Trove of Springtime 


6 


An October Allegro 


. 8 


By the Round of the Robin . 


10 


Through the Long Nights 


. 12 


The Weathercock . 


14 


Benedicite .... 


16 


The Care-Cat 


17 


"His Heaven Commences Ere the 




World be Past" . 


19 


Anger 


23 


What Saint so Fair ? 


24 


The King 


26 


An Old Wedding Ring . 


28 


Time the Beneficent 


30 


To Jessie's Dancing Feet 


32 


The Penitent Poet to His Muse 


34 


"Oh! Saucy Wind" . 


36 


Poetic License . 


38 


Lucy and the Mouse 


40 


Lines to a Blotting Pad . 


4i 


She, So Demure of Yore 


43 



IX 



The Test of Time . 


' 45 


To Lucy— a Valentine . 


46 


Tommy Ten Toes 


47 


The Passing of Summer 


49 


Daughter " Sixteenmo " 


52 


Slumber Song 


54 


Solitude 


56 


Would You ? ... 


- 57 


The Lay of the Grolierite 


58 


The President ! Always . 


60 


The Rule of Three 


62 


"Treasures Upon Earth" . 


63 


Until June Comes 


64 


A Rule 


66 


The Song of Hurry 


67 


To a Thermometer 


69 


For Claret Cup . 


70 


For a Calendar . 


73 


The Cricket's Midsummer Night's 




Song 


74 


Per Contra 


76 


On the Porch, Behind the Honey- 




suckle 


77 


Of Laura's Bonnet 


79 



A Summer Snowflake 

and 
Drift of other Verse and 

Song 




HEN skies are blue, in sunny <*/] 

summer weather, Summer 

And breezes blow as softly Snowflake 

as a sigh, 

Then bees and birds and butterflies to- 
gether 
Go vagabonding, lagging as they fly. 

Then thistledown is started on its travels 
In little knots of silky, fleecy gray, 
Which soon the wind, with gentle touch , 

unravels, 
And sends upon their joyous, wandering 

way. 

From no one knows just where a bit 
comes flying, 

A feathery flake of Summer's magic 
snow, 

Which twists and turns as though 
'twere deftly trying 

To dodge the tangles where the bur- 
docks grow. 

And though its fellows follow one an- 
other, 

Like shooting stars from heaven's field 
of blue, 



oA Each whirling flake flies separate from 

Summer its brother, 

Snow flake With random fancy for its only clue. 

It needs no other partner for its dances; 

With dandelion tufts for merry mates 
It pivots round the Maypole, which it 
fancies 

A Marguerite so gaily simulates. 

The pigeon grass, which beckons to it 
primly, 
May crook in vain its furry finger- 
ends : 
It shuns as well the teasels, to which 
grimly 
Cling tattered remnants of its former 
friends. 

It brushes by the asters, all displaying 
Their faded purples by the dusty walk, 

And stops to tease the yellow bird a- 
swaying 
Sedately on the stately mullein-stalk. 

Now round the weeds, and now 
between the grasses, 
It flutters on, with many a loitering 
stop 



The where its way is barred in narrow q/J 

passes, Summer 

By golden-rod or blundering clover- Snowflake 
top. _ 

But ever from its many resting-places 

It starts again a farther flight to try, 
And revels in exciting zig-zag races 

With every passing yellow butterfly. 

And then, perchance the breeze, or 
maybe merely 
A little puff of vanity and pride, 
Uplifts the snowy floss, and bears it 
clearly 
High o'er the fences by the meadow 
side. 

Across the field it sails ; and then it rises 
In sudden swirl to such an airy height, 

It fairly caps the treetops and surprises 
The swallows darting round in twit- 
tering fright. 

And still its very lightnesswingsithigher, 
And higher yet, before its flight is done ; 

Till, far beyond where vision may aspire, 
It soars away and melts into the sun. 

5 



The 

Treasure 
Trove of 
Spring- 
time 




HERE are treasures in the 

garden, 
Buried low and buried 
deep, 
Such as buccaneers and pirates 

Had not ever in their keep. 
You may find them if you seek them 

During April or in May, 
With the spade and fork and shovel, 
In the good old gardening way. 



Captain Kidd hath never hidden 

Any gold beneath the sod 
That is brighter than the yellows 

Where the daffodils do nod. 
And the golden cups the tulips 

Will lift up are greater gain 
Than the spoils from out the holds 

Of all the galleons of Spain. 



All the argosies and carvels 

Which the Corsairs chased of old, 
Did not flaunt such challenge-banners 

As the roses shall unfold. 
And the rolls of silks and satins 

Won as plunder, — what had they 
Like the velvet of the petals 

Of those roses to display ? 



time 



And the bales of stuffs from Persia, The 

And the rugs of softest dye,— Treasure 

With the paintings of the pansies Trove of 

May they ever hope to vie ? Spring- 

And the ropes of pearls, the rubies 

And the jewelled diadems, — 
Does not every dew of summer 

Crown the flowers with its gems ? 

Oh, the hoardings of those rovers 

And their dollars and doubloons, 
With their chink of precious metals, — 

How they sing their merry tunes ! 
But the lilies of the valley, 

As they tinkle on the stem, 
They can ring a chime of silver 

Which shall more than rival them. 

So, go you all a-gardening 

To win the joy of life ! 
Go, make the stubborn soil give up 

Its riches ripe and rife ! 
You will find them if you seek them 

During April or in May 
With the fork and pick and shovel, 

In the good old gardening way. 
Dig deep the spade, and with a will 

Uplift the wealth that's there ! 
For in the earth there is no dearth 

Of riches, everywhere. 



An 

October 

Allegro 




E are yellow autumn leaves, 
decked with russet and 
with red, 
Pranked in gold and in the 
proudest of attire; 
But the wild October breeze hath al- 
lured us from the trees 
And hath piped to us to dance to his 
desire. 



Such a tone he now hath blown, full of 
revelry and glee, 
Like the fluting of the orioles in May, 
That we yield us to the course of his 
dominating force 
And come drifting down his mandate 
to obey. 



We refuse to borrow sorrow from the 
morrow ere 'tis here 
For the music of the day doth make 
us mad; 
And the fate of leaf or man must befall 
as best it can 
When the wind doth will to wanton 
and be glad. 



What intoxicating pleasures are the An 

measures of our dance October 

When a thousand of us rise as in a Allegro 

cloud; 

Or whene'er as from a sleep, we awake 
in sudden sweep 
And around do reel a swiftly eddying 
crowd. 

How we twirl in merry swirl as aslant 
the wind we whirl 
To seem to shun his rapturous em- 
brace; 
Till he lifts us in his might to the glory 
of the height, 
Where the swallows dip and swing 
in airy chase. 

And as Jove wooed Danae in the fabled 
days of old, 
When the gods, for love, did stoop to 
visit earth, 
So in showers of splendent gold hath 
the wind his passion told, 
With the promise of the springtime's 
joyous birth. 



By the c^gij^HEN the wastes of white lie 
Round of pUSiK!^ drear and cold, before the 

the Robin" mAM spring is here 

lyjra M^i And as high as walls of 

Jericho the banks of snow appear, 
Then the robin comes and to the gale 

gives challenge loud and long 
In his arrogance of hope and with his 

bravery of song. 

Though the ice of dread December hide 
the blooms that he foresees, 

Though the shrilling of the wind return 
discordance for his glees, 

Though the branch wherefrom he pro- 
phesies rock bleakly in the air, 

Still he boldly sings his summons to the 
flowers everywhere. 

And though many days he compass the 

beleaguered ramparts round 
Where the foes of song and sunshine in 

their fastnesses are found, 
Like a shout rings out his daring to the 

frost and to the snow 
Till the trumpets of the lilies do re-echo 

it below. 

* iC By faith the walls of Jericho fell down after they were 
compassed about seven days." Hebrews, ch. n, v. 30. 

10 



So the miracle of nature, ever new and By the 

ever old, Round of 

Follows surely with the triumph which ^ e fc fo( n 

its herald has foretold ; 

And the robin, for his courage, which no 

winds of March may foil, 
Earns the riches of the fruitage of the 

summer as his spoil. 



M 



Nights 



Through toJ^-^HROUGH the long nights 
the how hard to woo is sleep ! 

Long IsSv )!** ^ he hoLirs drag slowl y ° n ' 

the minutes only creep ; 
Time's store of sand runs out but grain 

by grain- 
Will slumber never come to break the 

endless train ? 
The clock, for answer, still its weary tale 

recites 
Through the long nights. 

Through the long nights how sorrow 
claims its own ! 

How daylight's coward griefs troop 
round us then alone ! 

The very silence throbs, we toss and 
fret, 

And every chancing sound drives slum- 
ber farther yet. 

Or crickets' chirr or storm, like wakeful- 
ness incites 

Through the long nights. 

Through the long nights how clearly 
might we hear, 

Above our sob and sigh, above our cry 
of fear, 

The still, small voice, which worldly tur- 
moil drowned ! 

12 



There, in the solemn darkness, hath it Through 

waked to sound. ffo e 

Tis this which stirs our stubborn hearts, ]^ on g 

and sleep affrights mbu 

Through the long nights. 

Oh ! list, my soul, this message, which 

the midnight brings ! 
List! — that "the Sun may rise, with heal- 
ing in His wings." 
' 'Hast thou thy sorrow ? — Lo ! thy friend 

hath more. 
Art thou distressed ? Lo ! many a heart 

is sore. 
Hush then thine own, — take thought for 

others' woes, 
So, slumber's kiss thy weary eyes shall 

close. 
And, when at last thy duties here are 

done, 
Thy labors finished, and thy course is 

run, 
Then shalt thou rest thee in the angels' 

keep ; 
' For so He giveth His beloved sleep.' 
Soon o'er thy wakening eyes a glorious 

light shall pour : 
An endless day shall dawn, and night 

shall be no more." 

>3 



The IRBH ^^ ^ e wea ^hercock, here 

Weather- }$& Jvjj l rei £ n 

cock tew CH High on the top of lhe 
iSSss^U weathervane, 

Here where the tempests of Heaven 

meet, 
In storm and the blast and the driving 

sleet. 
Here I rustily creak and crow 
And croak at the people down below: 
"O, Ho ! Let it snow! Let it rain, let 

it blow! 
Wherever it listeth the wind shall go." 

Blow east, blow west; blow north, blow 

south- 
It matters not where I fill my mouth, 
I eat of the winds as though they were 

corn 
And man in his panic 1 laugh to scorn. 
There's little to choose and little to care 
What winds may rage, if I get my share. 
And so, let it blow! Let it riot and 

snow! 
Wherever it listeth the wind shall go. 



14 



Forever to pivot and turn and twist, The 

As time, or the breeze, or the gale may IVeather- 

llst > cock 
Forever to twirl and shift and veer, 

Day in and day out through the chang- 
ing year, 

'Tis thus that I revel in mad caprice, 

Nor heed nor care when the dance shall 
cease. 

O, No! Let it snow! Let it bluster and 
blow! 

Wherever it listeth the wind shall go. 

In centuries past, by a Pope's decree, 
Each steeple and spire was capped by 

me 
To stand as the sign and symbol of him 
Who spurned his Lord in a passing 

whim. 
And while I pivot and twist anew, 
As Peter I warned I now warn you. 
''Ye fickle in mind, ye too, like the 

snow, 
Shall drift with the wind where it listeth 

to blow." 



15 



Benedi- 


OME echo of a sorrow seems 


cite *^<Cirl 


to be 


— 4^1 \^^ feji 


In every Summer breeze 




that whispers low, 



In all the winds that through the heavens 

blow 
And in the changeful music of the sea. 
A tone of sadness marks the robin's glee, 
The very brooks that murmur as they 

flow 
And every cry that bird or beast doth 

know. 
All Nature's sounds are voiced in minor 

key. 

So, when my heart-strings by distress 
are wrung, 
Or anguish wills from me a solemn 
chord, 
When smiles have left my lips and mirth 
my tongue, 
Yet shall submission have its sure 
reward. 
Still, let God's glory be forever sung, 
And, in my sorrow, may I praise the 
Lord. 



\6 




(ARE is a Cat with yellow The Care- 
eyes, Cat 

A~blinking mildly in the — 
sun, 

Content to slumber where she lies, 
Or quick, on our approach, to run. 

But at the closing in of night, 

She arrogates a bolder mien, 
And with a courage born of fright, 

She bristles up, with eyes a-green. 

She then runs riot where she will, 
Nor heeds on whom she makes attack, 

And when repulsed she ventures still 
To come, persistent, mewing back. 

And though the rivers, to their brink 
Were filled with wine, full flooding 
down, 

There is not depth enough in drink, 
Orstrength in wine, that cat to drown. 

She will not drown— she will not die ; 

She seems to have nine cursed lives: 
And 'spite of what defence we try 

Her grim malevolence survives. 
17 



The Care- So, when the Care-Cat at my door, 
Cat Comes prowling 'round to seek her 

— prey, 

I look for help where heretofore 
Far wiser men have found a way. 

I turn me to my Books, and there 
I find no evil thing to dread : 

They banish all the kin of care 
And give their own delights instead. 

That Devil's imp they exorcise, 
As with a charm from Heaven sent — 

And tamely at my feet she lies 
And purrs, subdued and somnolent. 



18 




|S in a dream it seemed to "His 
me I saw Heaven 

The Lord's Elect draw nigh Commen- 

to Heaven's gate. ,, 

ces eve the 

Their right to enter in none might gain- _., 7r , 
say, World be 

But, even so, Saint Peter bade them " as * 

wait. ®° ^ eorse 

"Know ye," he said, "who Paradise c ' lu ^ an S<* 

have won 
And gained the blessings which God's 

grace imparts, 
This Heaven is but that Heaven more 

glorified, 
Which ye, on earth, have builded in 

your hearts." 

And then the gates swung wide, and 
through them passed 

One of the world's great men, a finan- 
cier. 

On his mere word had fate and fortune 
hung, 

Yet had he lived as free from guile as fear. 

To him the Elysian fields spread out 
their all, — 

The endless joys which life eternal 
brings. 

19 



"His Still, something lacked ; Heaven's har- 

Heaven monies rang false ; 

Comrnen- *~" s sou ' re sponded but to worldly 
ces ere the things ' 

World be A l , 

gp „ And then a statesman came, to whom, 

in life, 
The world was but a chessboard for his 

skill. 
On his determined purposes and ends 
Men moved like pawns, and answered 

to his will. 
To this man, too, the Heaven he had 

gained 
Displayed its dazzling glories half in 

vain. 
The very angels' songs he longed to 

lead, 
And bid their hosts to follow in his 

train. 

Again a merchant passed the golden 

gates, 
And hoped within them full beatitude 

to find. 
And following him a countless throng 

came on, — 
All sorts and all conditions of mankind. 



To every one the joys of Heaven were "His 

free ; Heaven 

It was their own ; the Promised Land Commen- 

was theirs * ces ere the 

And yet, somehow, the brightness of it ri , 1J7 

, . World be 

Pal6d Vast" 
Or seemed to mirror back their earthly 

cares. 



So, last of all, came one with silvered 

hair, 
Who blushed to own a life so little 

worth ; 
For fourscore years he'd gathered flower 

and fruit, 
And sown the good seed over all the 

earth. 
And when, in turn, he entered in, — Be- 
hold ! 
His Heaven was just the same, yet not 

the same. 
New flowers bloomed and blazoned at 

his feet, 
New buds and blossoms in attendance 

came. 



"His Most wondrous fruits were his, and all 

Heaven the air 

Cotmnen- ^ as gay w *^ ^ ees anc * ^irds anc * kut- 

ces ere the terflies ' 
. . .. j - , Sweet songs and perfumes bade him 

welcome there, 
/ wjt ^ n ^ |-[ eaven ^0 him was truly Paradise. 

Then, while he stood, entranced, again 

he heard 
Those gracious words premonished 

from the start : 
"This Heaven is but that Heaven, more 

glorified, 
Which thou, on earth, hast builded in 

thy heart." 



22 




'VE seen a cloud no bigger Anger 
than your hand, — 

O'erspread the Summer sky, 
and shroud the land. 
I've seen the flapping shadow of the 

crow 
Add dreariness to Winter's waste of 
snow. 

A little word may leave so deep a smart 
As soon shall dim the gladness of the 

heart ; 
And weary souls that Fate has smitten 

sore 
An idle tongue may make to suffer more. 

Yet leaden cloud, nor dire and sombre 

bird, 
Nor whip of scorn, nor barbed and 

venomed word 
Leaves deeper sting, or casts a shadow 

down 
Blacker than Anger's sullen, cruel frown. 



23 



What R^SMI LADY lived and died, 

Saint C2rAl&i Lon s> lon s a g°> 




So Fair? & BPt ^%/k ^ er '^ e was sanctified, 

And pure as snow. 

Her name, perchance, was Anne, 

Or Catharine, 
Cornelia, Ruth or Jeanne, 

Or Caroline. 



Their throng is numberless, 
Those saints of old, 

Who did the Faith profess 
And firmly hold. 

Themselves they sacrificed 

For others' good : 
They are immortalized — 

Sweet Sisterhood ! 



And saints there are, alive 

And with us here ; 
Oh ! may they long survive — 

Our mothers, dear ! 

24 



Or yours, or his, or mine, What 

What saint so fair Saint 

A halo round doth shine $ p a j r p 

And crown of hair ? 

What woman here on earth 

Or there above 
Hath lavished greater worth 

Of kindly love ! 

I pray God's peace and grace 

To them be shown. 
1 know in Heaven their place 

Is near the Throne. 



2S 




The King GJ S ^T]P ' were King, 1 would not be 

The King of France or Spain ; 
I would not be the Em- 
peror, 
Or over Ireland reign ; 
1 would not be the great White Czar, 
Or claim the Sultan's moon and star : 
But I would be the King of all — 
If I were King ! King Alcohol ! 

King Alcohol ! King Alcohol ! 

A toast ! I give the toast. 

His power no other King can claim 

Or gayer life can boast ; 

He bends his subjects to his will 

And drives them where he would ; 

He has no thought of doing ill 

Nor fear in doing good. 

He's merry, merry all the day, 

And long may live his potent sway. 

King Alcohol ! King Alcohol ! 

He is the King that rules them all. 



26 






And yet were I this mighty King, — The King 

I'd rather be a Man. — 

I'd be as happy, free and gay 

And merry as I can. 

I'd best the King, till he served me, 

And were I King, — as few may be, — 

I'd rule the King that rules them all, 

And be the King of Alcohol. 



27 



An Old frA^^iWjHAT a symbol of love is that 
Wedding circle of gold, 

Tiins [*s!mJ^ ^ ^ e to ' <en °f w '^ c h our 

_ i^r £u devotion was told ! 

How our youthful affection shines out, 

as it seems, 
In the light of the romance around it 

that gleams ; 
And it knows no beginning or ending, 

or why 
Its continuing course should not run till 

we die. 



And a sign and a seal of our reverence, 
too, 

Had a part in our creed, when that old 
ring was new, 

When a slender, light hand was up- 
raised to our lips 

And our kisses were pressed on its slim 
finger tips. 

For that circle of gold seemed a hallow- 
ing pledge 

Of an homage profounder than words 
dared allege. 



28 



But the metal that's purest wears quick- An Old 
est away. Wedding 

And that old wedding ring has grown gi n g 
thinner to-day ; _ 

Yet the hand which it graced graces it 
in its turn 

With a magic the alchemist vainly 
would learn. 

For sweet charity's touch has so filled 
it with gold 

That that hand never lacked to the hun- 
gry and cold. 

And the summers may come, and the 

summers may go, 
And the winters may whiten the hair 

with their snow ; 
Still the hand which a lover delighted 

to kiss 
Wears the signet of half of a century's 

bliss, 
And no earnest of joy in the heavens 

above 
Is more sure than that ring and its cycle 

of love. 



20 



Time the 
Benefi- 
cent 



[OLD thou thy sharp and 
cruel shaft, O Death ! 
Let thy poor prey still draw 
his fleeting breath. 
Unbend thy bow and bid its singing 

string be still and dumb, 
His hour to die is not yet come. 




Leave him to me, O Death ! Let kindly 

Time 
Yield him the chance to purge himself 

from crime. 
Evil he did ; his soul is seared and 

scarred with many a sin, 
And yet, — good may remain therein. 

How shall contrition come to him that's 

dead ? 
From out the grave no prayers are heard 

or said. 
But ere his sands within my glass are all 

run out and spent, 
By Heaven's grace, he may repent. 



30 



Go seek the suffering ones, O Death ! — Time the 
the sad, Benefi- 

The helpless, maimed and hopeless ; — cen ^ 
make them glad _ 

With thy swift bolt. In my compas- 
sion, Lo ! their sands run fast. 

String taut thy bow, draw then with all 
the surety thou hast, 

Let loose, and to the broken-hearted 
give thou peace at last. 



?? 



ToJessiesvj* 3 g F 31 OW, as a spider's web is 

p ee f IcU^»^b With subtle grace and art, 

__ Do thy light footsteps, every 

one, 
Cross and recross my heart ! 
Now here, now there, and to and fro, 
Their winding mazes turn : 
Thy fairy feet so lightly go 
They seem the earth to spurn. 
Yet every step leaves there behind, 
A something, in thy dance, 
That serves to tangle up my mind 
And all my soul entrance. 

How, as the web the spiders spin 

And wanton breezes blow, 

Thy soft and filmy laces in 

A swirl around thee flow ! 

The cobweb 'neath thy chin that's 

crossed 
Remains demurely put, 
While those are ever whirled and tossed 
That show thy saucy foot ! 
That show the silver grayness of 
Thy stockings' silken sheen, 
And mesh of snowy skirts above 
The silver that is seen. 
v- 



How, as the spider, from his web, Tojessies 

Dangles in light suspense, Dancing 

Do thy sweet measures' flow and ebb p ee f 
Sway my enraptured sense ! __ 

Thy fluttering lace, thy dainty airs, 
Thy every charming pose- 
There are not more alluring snares 
To bind me with than those. 
Swing on ! Sway on ! With easy grace 
Thy witching steps repeat ! 
The love I dare not — to thy face — 
I offer, at thy feet. 



33 



The 

Tenitent 
"Poet 
To His 
Muse 

In Three 
Cantos 




THE SIGH : 

MET a dainty maid, once on 

a day, 
All in her pride arrayed, 
gladsome and gay; 
Just a sweet vision she was, going by, 
Light as the fleece of a Summer day's 

sky ! 
Oh! but to know her and love her, — Ah 

me!— 
Happy, how happy, her lover shall be! 

the tear: 
Never maid more demure, now as 1 

know 
May with a smile allure man to his woe. 
At her dear feet I have offered in vain 
All of my kingdom and castles in Spain; 
Cruel with coquetry, she says me : 

"No!"— 
Pity, 'tis pity that she should do so! 



THE yawn: 
Was it she, passing there, seeming so 

shy? 
Not that 1 saw, or care, — no, no, not I — 
Maids with a blush that may rival the 

rose, 

34 



Come with the sunshine, and go, as it The 

g° es - "Penitent 

Little I heed whom they lure with their ep oe f 

u Tw u " f ■«,„ To His 

Now that my Muse favors me with her . . 

smiles! Muse 

In Three 
Cantos 



35 



<c 0h! k^^smIS down the walk my Lady 

Saucy Lu °y § oes 

Wind" S^flVVl ^ e Summer Wind wi " 
LZ2SJL wJ wanton with her clothes ; 

And, daring as a lover e'er may be, 

He romps about her dainty drapery. 

A careless hand upon her skirt he lays, 
And foaming waves of tossing lace dis- 
plays : 
Her little feet he fondles in his sweep, 
And with her dainty stockings plays bo- 
peep. 

He streams her ribbands out unto the 
sun, 

While through her hair his errant fin- 
gers run, 

Or 'round her slender waist they fold, 
as though 

He knew she loved to have it circled so. 

He breathes the breath of love upon her 
cheek, 

And with her dimples sports at hide- 
and-seek ; 

He dallies with the kerchief on her 
breast, 

And leaves his kisses 'neath its folds 
impresst. 



Oh, saucy Wind, that, lover-like and "Obi 
bold, Saucy 

Presumes my lady's beauties to enfold ! j/[/j nc i 

Oh, silly heart of mine that dare not 

dare, 

While Lucy's charms waste on the 
empty air ! 



37 



"Poetic 
License 




HOULD I tell you, sweetest 
heart ! 
How 1 feel; 
If I humbly at your feet, 

Were to kneel; 
I mention that I loved 
i but you; 

ged for "just a kiss" 
I do. 




Should 
Non< 

If I beg 
—As 



Ordinarily, I know 

What you'd say, 
And can very clearly see 

Just the way 
You would most superbly rise, 
Would express your great surprise, 
And with fire in your eyes, 

"Fire " me. 

But pray ponder, gentle girl, 

Upon this: 
Such confessions no one need 

Take amiss; 
For the poets with credentials 

Such as these, 
By poetic license say 

What they please. 



38 



So you cannot stop my bold 

"I love you!" 
Nor forbid that for the kiss 

I should sue. 
Nor, moreover, can you, pray — 
Can you swear that ?" I say 
Is but in a poet' c 

And not true ? 



Poetic 
License 



As for me, must 1 confess, 

"Neath the rose," 
That no better can 1 guess 

(For who knows?) 
If you might not whisper ''Yes," 
Or demurely acquiesce, 
And permit the sweet caress, 

Were this prose ? 



39 



Lacy 


WbJ^HCKORY, dickory, dock, 


And the 


ffKtehM The mouse ran up the 


Mouse 


Siw2 clock -" 
Qkac Alas! that clock 




Was one of those 




Embroidered on 




Sweet Lucy's hose. 




If it " struck one," 




It struck me, too, 




As rudest deed 




A mouse could do. 



A swish ! a swirl ! 

A shriek suppressed ! 
And snow-white skirts 

Were manifest. 



And mouse and I 
Can truly swear 

That dainty hose 
Doth Lucy wear. 

" Run, little mouse ! 

Run quick! " I say; 
" For he who frights 

And runs away 
May live to fright 

Another day." 
40 




HOU kindly porous-plaster Lines to a 

for the ills Blotting 

Occasioned by the ink a p a ^ 

poet spills, 

Absorb unto thyself his many faults, 
And sponge his verse where rhyme or 
rhythm halts ! 

Yet, lest perchance thy too retentive 
touch 

Appropriate, in passing, overmuch— 

Pray leave a trace of what he would im- 
ply 

Were thought but free, and ink allowed 
to dry ! 

In former times they sprinkled out the 

sand 
To sweep it off, and let the writing stand ; 
While nowadays a line is hardly writ 
Ere we regret and seek to alter it, 

And spend in emendation so much pains 
That scarce an inkling of the truth 

remains. 
So, for the nonce, let my poor pen run 

free 
And leave recorded, whatsoe'er it be ! 

41 



Lines to a Grant it expression for a final line, 
Blotting And a " that went before is gladly thine ! 
Pad Then will this postscript yet suffice to 

show : 

" I'll love sweet Alice long as ink shall 
flow." 



42 




^ SAW it in her eyes, whose She, so 
lids demurely Demure 

Would droop beneath my Q f Yore 
gaze, and so more surely _ 
Confession make of something there to 

blind. 
Those eyes, I know, are shining, soft and 

tender ; 
There must be cause for veiling their full 

splendor. 
No curtain hangs where there is naught 
behind. 

I saw it 'neath her throat, where filmy 

laces, — 
Which hid her breast yet hid not all its 

graces, 
Their rise and fall would ceaselessly 

repeat. 
No fickle breeze or passing summer 

shower 
May stir the ocean's depths. Some 

mighty power, 
Alike in her, must pulse and throb and 

beat. 



43 



She, so I saw it in her every pose and gesture, 
Demure ^ er broideries and coquetry of vesture 
of Yore Whereout her dainty foot would glance 

and go. 

For idle sport no angler's hook is baited, 
Where snares are set some victim is 

awaited ; 
And tempting lures must be intended so. 

'Twas love then in those eyes that 
feared confession, 

Twas love there too that shyly sought 
expression, 

As now I knew who did but guess be- 
fore. 

For now she answers back my burning 
kisses 

With ready lips, and to the winds dis- 
misses 

All doubt and fear, — she, so demure of 
yore. 



44 



IME'S constant hour-glass 
Allows its sands to pass 
Unmarked, grain after grain 
Whether each one be gold 

Or prove but dust and mold, 

Its use alone makes plain. 




The Test 
of Time 



45 



To Lacy 
A Valen- 
tine 




EAR Mistress ; here I show 
The first fair flowers that 

grow, 
So you by them may know 
Who is your Valentine. 

For these are snow-drops, meet 
Your maiden lips to greet. 
With kisses faintly sweet 
If you do so incline. 

But, if your pouting lip 
Choose yet again to sip, 
Maybe these cups shall tip 
A draught of love divine. 



You need but shut your eyes. 
In happy, dreamy wise, 
To know these flowers disguise 
Another kiss — Sweetheart, — 
'tis mine! 




[HOUGH it was not his name Tommy 
He was called just the same Ten Toes 
Our Tommy, our "Tommy — 
Ten Toes." 
His little toes curled up so bonny and 

tight 
And kicked so, and wriggled in rampant 

delight, 
And never a one of them but was as 

white, — 
Or pinkish perhaps in the flickering light 
Of the go-to-bed candle, — as ever a 

rose, 
When in his crib cradle we tucked in the 
clothes. 

No, it was not his name, 

Yet we think just the same 

Of Tommy, our ' Tommy Ten Toes." 

And none of the angels above in the 
skies 

We know but that joyously, eagerly 
vies 

In the cradle of kindness to tuck him, — 
and prize 

And spoil him, in just the same moth- 
erly-wise 

As we used to do ; till the Trumpet that 
blows 

47 



Tommy Shall wake us in Heaven to meet among 

Ten Toes those 

— The Lord called, — and loveth, — our 

"Tommy Ten Toes." 




|UMMER is gone ! We now The 

regret with tears Tassingof 

Her varied charms ; the Summer 

strawberries, the peas, 

The roses, all her wealth of benefits 
Which from her horn of plenty she out- 
pours ; 
Forgetting and forgiving minor woes 
Offliesorheat, mosquitoes, sun, or dust, 
Which spoil complexions, temper, 

frocks, and fun. 
Summer has fled ! And with her disap- 
pears 
Her sweet creation, her bright, fairest 

flower, 
Whom flippant people, knowing not her 

charms, 
Delight to libei as the Summer Girl. 

Sweet daughter she of August and July! 
I love her, and her lovers count by 

scores. 
Tis she who wears those luring gowns 

displayed 
In great shop windows in the early 

Spring, 
Which men admire and yet their wives 

buy not. 

49 



The Hers are those ginghams, muslins, 

Vassingof mulls > and thin § s 
Summer Which make a rainbow of the baking 
streets ; 

Hers are those dainty shoes, red as the 
rose 

Or white as lilies, or yet brown, or tan, 

Or bright deep yellow like the mari- 
golds 

That dot the dusty sidewalk till it 
blooms 

And blossoms like a brilliant flower bed. 

Hers, too, those flaunting, flirting, fleet- 
ing skirts 

So deftly raised to show those pretty feet 

And just a glimpse of something more 
above. 

And when she passed, her ribbons flut- 
t'ring by 

Fanned the hot air and seemed to 
sweeten it. 

She cheered the stay-at-home, till he 

forgot 
His missed vacation, troubles, woes, and 

debts, 
And stopped to wonder who she was ; 

and then 

50 



Just thanked his stars and blessed her The 

pretty face. Tassingof 

We loved her much, in white or pink or Summer 

blue, 

So clean, so cool, always so sweet a 

sight. 
But now, alas ! alas ! autumn is here. 
In sombre tailor gown she's not the 

same. 
Our love is fled ; the Summer Girl has 

gone ! 



51 



Daughter SEggaHEN " Susie " and " Janey " 
"Six- ^^^to corne romping along 
teenmo" SS\/ 0b With unskirted legs and a 
_ rollicking song, 

1 know that my Daughter must have 
them in tow 

And hers is the carol I hear as they go, 

With stumbling feet, yet voice so sweet; 

" Oh ! Uppitty, Huppity, Guppity, Ga ! 

We're coming to visit our sleepy Papa." 

Now "Susie" and "Janey" are dolls, 
if you please, 

With rag-a-bag bodies and flexible 
knees; 

Their noses are flat and they've saucer- 
size eyes, 

But Daughter has taught them some 
musical cries, 

As down the hall they come to call 

With: " Hippity, Hoppity, Guppity, 
Gup! 

It's pretty near time for Papa to wake 
up." 



52 



So Daughter and "Susie" and "Janey" Daughter 

agree " Six- 

Each morning to bring and sing sun- f een ^Q yi 

shine to me. 

Their matins they chant in a curious 

tongue 
But never was madrigal merrier sung, 
As, gurgling still, I hear them trill: 
"Oh! Umpity, Dumpity, Gaddy, Go, 

Ho!" 
We're coming to wake up our Daddy, 

Oh ! Ho ! " 



53 



Slumber sj"*^7l0 you suppose, 
Song Es^Jlll I Sleepiness grows 




Out in the- garden along 
with the Rose, 
Filling the air with a fragrance that 

blows 
Sweetness and slumber wherever it 
goes, 

Making you doze, 
Drowsily doze, 
Making your dreamy eyes sleepily close? 

Or do you think, 

There is a drink, 
Such as the Butterflies sip with a wink 
Out of gold buttercups filled to the 

brink ! 
Causing the world to look rosy and 
pink, 

Till your eyes blink, 

Twinkle and blink, 
Till they in slumber so drowsily sink ? 

Whisper to me, 

What can it be ? 
Is it the rollicking caroling glee, 
Sung by the Robin high up in the tree ? 
Is it the hum of the bumbleing Bee, 

54 



Making you see, Slumber 

Readily see, Song 

Slumber and singing most sweetly — 
agree ? 

Never you tell ! 

Never you tell ! 
Cherish your secret too sacred to sell, 
Where you find flowers from Heaven 

that fell, 
Where every sound is as sweet as a bell; 

Only sleep well ! 

Only sleep well ! 
Good night ! good night ! — sleep well ! 
sleep well ! 



55 



Solitude 

A Song of 
Antoinette 



EEP in the woods I know a 

nook 
Where no one may in- 
trude ; 

There, where no prying eyes may look, 
I dream in solitude. 




Deep in the hush that hovers there, 
Sink heart and soul and mind, 

And melodies beyond compare 
In that sweet calm, I find. 

Deep in my heart are chords, which 
thou 

Alone canst wake to sound; 
The very memory of thee now, 

What harmonies surround ! 

Deep in the grave, some day, must we 

In solitude each lie; 
But even there sweet thoughts of thee 
I know the winds shall whisper me, 

And soul to soul reply. 



56 




pULD you ruffle the down Would 
of the butterfly ? You ? 

Or scatter the violet's — 
dew? 

Would you rub the soft cheek of the 
peach awry ? 
Or rumple the roses ? Would you ? 

And the first loving kiss of an unkissed 

maid, 
The fairest bloom ever that blew, 
As sweet and as frail as the flowers that 

fade — 
Whoever would take it ? Would you ? 



57 



The Lay S25Lr?H HE love of maicis > the love °f 

Grolierite ^S^ Tis sunshine when the y 

But if they frown, how black the 
shades 
Which shroud my heart the while. 

The maids 1 love, the maids I love, 
How pride doth hedge them in ! 

They hold their favor far above 
My humble wit to win. 

The maids I love, the maids I love, 
Whoe'er would win such prize 

Had need be harmless as the dove, 
And, as the serpent, wise. 

So not for me is love of maids, 

Be they or kind or cold : 
The love of maids, 'tis not for me, 

Though I be young or old. 

The love of books, the love of books, 

It passeth love of maids ; 
It doth not fade with fading looks 

Like love of them, — the jades ! 

58 



The books I love, the books I love, The Lay 

A gracious proffer make : f f]j e 

They hold a hoard of joys, whereof Grolierite 
They bid me freely take. _ 

The books I love, the books I love, 

They spread their welcome wide ; 
Not I alone may take thereof, 

But all the world beside. 



59 



The 
Presi- 
dent! 
Always 




ET us honor the name of our 

President, We, 
The grandest of countries 
that dared to be free ! 
Let us give him our praise ! Let us offer 

it now. 
When another shall come let us make 

him our bow. 
But, The President ! Always. Hats off, 

and respect 
To him whom the Nation has said is 
elect ! 



There is strength in a people who say 
what they mean 

And rise up in honor of " God Save the 
Queen ! " 

And a "Hoch" to the Kaiser, when 
done with a will, 

Gives a vim and a courage which noth- 
ing can kill. 

Therefore, Here's to McKinley ! Long 
life to the same ! 

To the President ! Always, — whatever 
his name. 



60 



We people from many were bound into The 

one Tresi- 

And our flag is the oldest that waves in ^ en ff 

the sun. *■. 

Let us cheer for it then till the rafters 

shall ring 
And for All of America let the song 

sing; 
For the North and the South and the 

East and the West, 
But, Our President ! Always, — who is, 

is the best. 

When the Star Spangled Banner rolls 
out from the band, 

Stand up ! Sing it, too ! Let us all under- 
stand 

That we honor ourselves when we 
honor the song 

Of the Nation to which we are proud to 
belong. 

And the head of Our Nation, whatever 
his name, 

Is Our President ! Always. Long life to 
the same ! 



6\ 



The Rule 
of Three 

{Modernised 
from 
• ' Mother 
Goose ") 




HREE Kings were in a poker 
game, 
Counted good as money; 
Three Queens were in an- 
other hand, 
Looking sweet as honey; 
Three Jacks were in the dealer's fist, 

Howsoever got — 
When down came Three Aces — and 
Gathered in the Pot. 



62 




|H ! a dollar to spend " Treas- 

And a dollar to lend ures u p on 

And a dollar to go as it g ar tfo " 
may, __ 

And the tip of a glass 
And the lip of a lass 
And the measureless pleasures 

Of Youth as they pass, 
What a fortune to squander away ! 

Or, a dollar to take 

And a dollar to make 

And a dollar for charity's pleas, 

And a home all alone, 

With its queen on her throne, 

And the limitless Kingdom 

Of Love for our own, 
It is Manhood gives riches like these. 

Then, a dollar to hoard 
And a dollar adored 
And a dollar to dole if we must. 
So our wealth is heaped high 
Till Old Age draweth nigh 
And the mandate is given 

To say our good-bye 
To the treasures which crumble to dust. 



63 



Until 

June 

Comes 




IAVE you heard the song 
a-humming : 
'Spring is coming ! Spring 
is coming I" 
For the robin has been noted 
Brave and blithe and silver-throated, 
While the blue-bird's prompt arrival 
Tells of Nature's glad revival. 



Through the trees the sap is flowing 
So you fairly see them growing, 
And the little downy pillows 
Fringe the ends of pussy willows. 
Now the sturdy first primroses 
Through the earth have poked their 

noses; 
All these omens most veracious 
Prove that Spring has come, by Gra- 
cious ! 



Winter's passed! We'll soon go maying! 
Dry goods stores are all displaying 
Early lines of Summer "thingums," 
Linens, laces, lawns and ginghams. 
Yet, my friends, if you are clever, 
Wear your rubbers, same as ever. 
Gentle Spring will bring its sloshes, 
Therefore cling to your goloshes. 
6 4 



Spring is coming, flower-intentioned; Until 
Winter's fled, as has been mentioned, j une 
Still 1 give this word of warning : Comes 

Wear your rubbers every morning! 

Wear them evenings, and endeavor 
To forget to wear them — never! 
Put them on her "cinderellas," 
Also carry both umbrellas ! 

Though we boast like brash Goliath : 
"Springtime cometh! Winter flyeth!" 
Yet wear rubbers, wear them always 
And, if needs must, in the hallways 
Someone else's you may borrow, 
To return them on the morrow. 
But till June comes, dry and cheery, 
Wear your rubbers, Honey, Deary! 



6 5 




A Rule T>[c£^^5]WIXT the quill and the 

blade, 
'Tis the quill, they say, 
rules ; 
Twixt the saw and the spade, 
Tis a choice of good tools. 

But 'twixt cup and the lip, 
'Twixt the tool and its use, 

There is many a slip, 
Hence this truth we deduce: 

Every man to his trade, 
Every trade with its tools ; 

But no tool is of aid 
To mere fumblers and fools. 



66 




|HI It's Hurry, Hurry, Hurry! The Song 
and it's hurry all you can! of Hurry 
You've got to keep a-hurry- — 
ing, and hustle like a man. 
The easy way of going is a relic of the 

Past, 
And now it's hurry! Hurry up! — Now 
Hurry! Hurry fast. 

It's very sure if you don't run the other 

fellow will, 
And so you want to hurry, and then 

hurry harder still, 
If some one's bound to beat you, you 

can pass him in a wink 
If you but keep a hurry on, and never 

stop to think. 

There may be time to catch your breath, 
when you have caught your car; 

But sixty seconds to the minute's all of 
them there are; 

There are but sixty minutes out of every 
hour of those, 

And when you figure very fast, it's aw- 
ful how it goes. 



6 7 



The Song And don't forget you've got to get there 
of Hurry mighty quick, because 

— You've got to get away again; and 
snatch it from the jaws. 
Whose jaws they are may cut no ice, 

or what you're going to snatch; 
You can't be too particular in such a 
shooting match. 

You needn't stop to fix your feet and 

try to walk a crack, 
For though it's tough a-getting there, 

it's tougher getting back. 
There's little time to linger on the 

greeny, grassy lawn, 
When long before you've gotten there 

you ought to then be gone. 

So keep a-humping, humping now, and 

jolly right along, 
With here a Hurry! there a Hurry! then 

a Hurry! strong. 
If you but keep your hurry on, and 

hurry, hurry fast, 
It's ten to one you're on the run, and 

may get back at last. 



68 




SLENDER, silver thread, To a 
Whose proud or 'minished Tber- 

head mometer 
Marks truly heat and cold, 

The genial summer's glow 

Or wintry winds that blow 

Thy rise and falling show 

In figures bold. 

Yet futile is thy gauge 
If it may not presage 
What I so fain would learn ; 
I ask, most weatherwise ! 
What subtle force there lies 
Within my Lady's eyes 
To freeze and burn ? 

For more uncertain she 

Than weather e'er can be 

Or April day ! 

Note now her sunny mood, 

Then her cold attitude, 

And tell me, pray, 

Is drought or wind or snow 

More deep, and hard to know, 

Or woman's way ? 



6 9 



For 

Claret 

Cup 




HE claret cup jug must be 

glass of pure crystal ; 
In sparkles should flash this 
rare whet for your whistle. 
The pitcher that's portly betokens good 

cheer, 
And this is the way to fulfill it, my 
dear. 

Two ponies of Cognac, to start with, we 

use ; 
And as much Benedictine or yellow 

Chartreuse. 
The juice of two lemons may follow 

that in, 
A curl of the peel, and some slices cut 

thin. 

Then, cucumber rind to the lemons we 

add, 
If " borage," as called for, is not to be 

had. 
Of sugar, the quantum is matter of 

taste, 
Though tasting too often tends surely 

to waste. 

The basis, of course, is a quart of Bor- 
deaux 



7 o 



Of praiseworthy vintage, whate'er the For 
Chateau. Claret 

(If someone assert that 'most any red q,x 
wine 

Will do to make cup— pray, don't 
waste on him mine). 

And even as mortar is needed for bricks, 
And lime in the mortar is part of the 

mix, 
So, soda for cup is the requisite blend, 
If gently uncorked and, at only one 

end. 

And after the soda we put in the ice — 
Just one solid lump, if you'll heed my 

advice. 
You might as well fan it to cool it, I say, 
As use little pieces, which melt right 

away. 

And then there remains but a finishing 

touch 
To end the good work, and, of many, 

make much ; 
A handful of berries just answers the 

case, 
And of mint, a bouquet is the last 

crowning grace. 
7« 



For There's a drink for the gods ! — if the 

Claret S ods onl y knew jt > 

q,a Or Hebe, their cup-bearer, ever could 

_ brew it. 

So pour out a glassful, with never a 

fear ! 
For that is the way the jug's emptied, 

my dear. 



72 



HE days to come are herein For a 

shown, Calendar 

But if by joy attended, — 

Can only then be surely 
known 
When each is gone and ended. 




73 



The 

Cricket's 
Mid- 
summer 
Night's 
Song 




RICK, krick, krick, krick, 
Isn't it hot! Isn't it hot! 
Krickety-krick, krickety- 
krick, 
Whether you're well, whether you're 

sick, 
Whether you like it or not : 
Isn't it hot ! Isn't it hot ! 



Kricky, kricky, kricky, krick ; 
Krick, krick, krick, krick. 
No breath of a breeze 
Bestirring the trees 
Or blowing on cradle or cot ! 
Kricky, kricky, kricky, krick, 
Isn't it hot ! Isn't it hot ! 

The locusts chirr, the tree toads cheep 

Too hot to sleep ! Too hot to sleep ! 

We sing it, too, 

The long night through ; 

Now high, now low, 

Now quick, now slow : 

Egad ! Egad I Egad ! 



74 



Kricky, kricky, kricky, krick ; The 

Krick, krick, krick, krick. Cricket's 

Whether you like it or not ; Mid- 

Isn't it bad ! 

f , x . x , , summer 

Isn t it sad ! 

Isn't it hot, hot, hot. Nights 

Song 



7S 



Ter 




HE foolish man who wrote 


Contra 




upon the sand 


— 




Left not a trace where he 




<RS*rV\^§^ 


had set his hand. 




While he who sprinkled sand on what 




he wrote 




Made permanent his thoughts for us to 




quote. 






OW the pallid lily's praises On the 
And the rose's, and the ^Porch, 

dais y' s > Behind 

In the poet's flowing phrases ** 

Have been chorused to the sky ! ,, 

Yet 1 doubt if those old fudges Honey- 

With their crochets and their grudges suc ™ e 

Are, by half, as proper judges 

As the bees, or you and 1. 



For bees love the honeysuckle ; 
In its mickle cup's a muckle 
Of allurement sweet as huckle- 
Berries in their bloom of blue. 
And, somehow, the huckleberry 
And the honeysuckle very 
Much recall to me those merry 
Days which shone for me and you ; 

When the bees gave their attention, 
With a zeal deserving mention, 
To the drawing of their pension 
Where the honeysuckle hung ; 
The whiles you and I,— you know it, 
Found a sweetness there below it 
Which no bumble bee or poet 
Ever sipped or ever sung. 

LofC. 77 



On the 
Torch, 
Behind 
the 

Honey- 
suckle 



So I always think with pleasure 
What a brimming, heaping measure 
Of rare honey-trove and treasure, 
Fills that flower ; — and besides, 
Ah ! that loveliest of posies 
Ne'er discovers or discloses 
To the bees' or others' noses 
All the sweetness which it hides. 



?s 




O see my Laura put her Of 

bonnet on — Lauras 

To see her, with demure ft nnet 
and roguish grace, _ 

Coquetting with her own fair, mir- 
rored face, — 
Twere worthy theme to write a son- 
net on. 
His Julia's clothes hath Herrick done it 
on ; 
And my love's, too, might claim such 

honored place, 
Since no more dimpled chin may silk 
embrace, 
Or whiter throat be crossed with Honi- 
ton. 

I trow no bonnet Petrarch's Laura wore 
Did look so sweet, or ribands had like 
those 
My Laura's fingers lightly fumble o'er 
Until they turn them into Cupid's 
bows. 
Then, with half-pouting lips, doth she 

insist : 
"I'm ready now — all ready to be kissed." 



79 



NOV 4 1902 



